


Five or Six?

by Webdog177



Category: RWBY
Genre: Butch/Femme, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Light BDSM, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webdog177/pseuds/Webdog177
Summary: Despite – or maybe because of – that fact that Blake enjoyed more risqué reading material, she claimed that she was a traditional girl and refused to even kiss Yang until they’d have at least six dates.“Why six?” Yang asked.“It seems like a proper number.”[Bumblebee, one-shot]





	Five or Six?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> A/N: So this is a thing. Those of you who follow me know I tend to stick with Whiterose, but am open to other stuff if the content is good. A reader suggested I try some Bumblebee with a healthy dose of spanking and whipping -- the whole spectrum, really. To which I said, 'eh.... I dunno...'. 
> 
> They said, 'C'mon... I dare you.'
> 
> Hmm. 'Nah...'
> 
> Then they come back with this. 'I triple dog dare you!'
> 
> Ouch. The triple dog dare. Said reader created a slight breach in etiquette by skipping the double dare and triple dare and going straight for the throat. Well, I couldn't take that sitting down and pulled out all the stops in a quick one-shot.
> 
> But I wasn't happy doing it! *frowny face*

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**Five or Six**

0 – 0 – 0

On their fifth date, Yang took Blake to a tiny restaurant tucked away from the main streets between a hair salon and a drug store. She had heard they served authentic food from Menagerie, and thought the attempt at catering to her date would be appreciated. Spicy scents of meat and vegetable stir fry rose hot and heavy in the air. Blake said that if she closed her eyes and inhaled the fumes, she could imagine walking down the streets of her childhood back home.

The local chefs would be manning their kitchens ferociously, punctuating each barked statement with the crack of their ladles. Her parents, eyes creased in quiet good humor, would nudge Blake, who was just a small slip of a girl at the time, to go on and ask them for what she wanted to eat, whether it was fried fish or spiced _Tutta_ root, despite the sweltering heat that seemed to perpetually surround Menagerie like a year-round cloud.

The Faunus believed that spicy foods were perfect for hot nights, something that Blake carried with her to this day, despite her preference for stewed fish.

They sat at a corner table, as Yang always preferred when she was making her moves. And she would have to use every single one of them on Blake.

Blake kept Yang on her toes, and she had done so since they met along the aisle of romance paperbacks at the bookstore she had followed her into minutes earlier. The first glance Yang gave Blake was because, quite frankly, Yang was sure she’d never met a woman with such fierce and apparent femininity.

With long, wavy hair as black as night and piercing golden eyes, Blake was tall and graceful, even with her ridiculous, knee-high heeled boots. _A born_ _femme_ , Yang’s mind screamed at her as her eyes slid over the girl’s figure and posture as she flicked through the pages of a book, and the black ribbon perched at the top of her head – doing a not-so-great job at hiding her Faunus heritage – seemed to prove that.

When Yang idled up next to her and plucked a random book from its shelf, Blake pretended not to notice her. Yang saw she was reading a volume of _‘Ninja’s Of Love’_ , and Yang grinned at the girl’s choice in erotic reading material.

“You come here often?” Yang asked.

Blake took a moment to finish reading a sentence in her book and then looked up, cocking her head slightly.

“Only on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

“Great,” Yang smiled, leaning up against the bookshelf. She accidentally knocked a book down to the floor. “Now I know where to find you.”

Blake laughed and when Yang asked her out, and she swept her heavy, hooded eyes over this new specimen – from Yang’s long, wavy yellow hair down to the tips of her boots. Blake then said, lightly, playfully, “We’ll see,” and gave a twinkly little smile full of promise and sin. And just like that, Yang was smitten.

Yang did take her out, to an old movie theater, a music store, and a live band. Despite – or maybe because of – that fact that she enjoyed more risqué reading material, Blake claimed that she was a traditional girl and refused to even kiss Yang until they’d have at least six dates.

“Why six?” Yang asked.

“It seems like a proper number.”

“Oh, come on,” Yang protested. “Come on, you’re really telling me I can’t even give you a tiny“ –she backed Blake slowly against a wall – “little…” – she lowered her head until her mouth skimmed just a breath away from hers – “kiss?”

Blake pushed Yang a full step back with both her hands and a surprising show of power in those golden eyes.

“No!” she snapped. She was grinning a little bit but still held firm. “Six dates.”

Yang had tried. Oh, Gods help her she had tried. But even when she made her moves on her against walls and into dark corners – and once on Yang’s bed using her slight height to her advantage – Blake refused to be seduced. Even when Yang kissed along the curve of her plant-stem-slender neck, making Blake shiver; even when Yang smoothed her hands alongside Blake’s sides and cupped her breasts; even when Yang stroked her outside her pants until their bodies were damp and trembling with desire, Blake would nudge her back and whisper into the shell of her ear, “Six dates…”

And she would glide away – or roll away – with that catlike grace, trailing clouds of that jasmine perfume and leaving Yang very, _very_ frustrated.

And excited. Oh, so excited. It was a merry chase and Yang was enjoying every minute of it.

If was only their fifth date, but sitting at the corner table of this little restaurant from Menagerie, Yang sensed something was finally going to happen.

Blake wore all black, a striking color that blended well with her skin tone and made her eyes shine like gold coins. Her lips were painted a dark crimson the color of ripened plums and they curved up now, teasingly, at Yang. Blake had done something magical and feminine so that her eyes were smoky and her eyelashes long and black. There was a teasing female awareness in them, almost smug and entirely too aware of the havoc she was currently causing in Yang’s boy shorts. Something about that knowing femininity always fascinated and intrigued Yang, even though – or maybe because – it always so desperately attracted her.

Blake leaned forward frequently so Yang got a good eyeful of what she wore under the dress – it was as red as her lips. Blake glanced at Yang now and then, eyes bright, a small cat-like smile curling at her lips. She seemed excited, expectant, waiting for something. Entranced as Yang was, she knew Blake would get whatever she wanted; Yang’s only power was how Blake would get it. Call it her intuition: Yang was definitely going to have her tonight.

She looked at Blake now, who sipped at her herbal tea.

“I’m surprised at you,” Blake commented. “I didn’t think we would come here.”

“Would you have preferred a fancier place?”

“No, this is perfect. Thank you.”

“Not quite perfect.” Yang took Blake’s hand, entangled their fingers. “Now it is.”

The dark, rich raspiness of Blake’s laugh tingled Yang’s skin.

They are platters of spicy smoked meats, bowls of rice and drank tea, all the while picking through side dishes of vegetable rolls seasoned with different herbs. They talked about their families, Blake’s interest in books and Yang’s hobby in boxing.

And when Yang mentioned the desert she had made back at her apartment, Blake only said, “Why don’t we just go do that?” with a small smile.

After making their way to Yang’s apartment, Blake clapped her hands happily as Yang brought out the dessert.

“You _made_ this?”

“Well, I learned this and that about baking from my step-mom. I get lucky from time to time.”

It was a towering confection with mounds of cream, dotted with berries and chucks of brownies, dusted lightly with powdered sugar.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”

When Yang offered a tiny, long-handled spoon, Blake merely said, “Feed me,” and opened her mouth.

Willing to play along, Yang fed Blake berries with cream, and brownies with powdered sugar, letting her slowly suck the cream and chocolate off the spoon, watching her eyes close in pleasure as she savored each bite.

And when she leaned toward Yang, offering her parted lips, still sticky with cream, Yang only skimmed a berry along her lips and popped it into her own mouth. Blake opened her eyes in surprise but Yang merely said, “Let’s take this into my room.” Satisfied, Blake smiled and let Yang sweep her into the bedroom.

Yang cocked an eyebrow, decidedly unsurprised, when Blake took a pair of bondage handcuffs out of her purse.

“My safe word is ‘dessert’,” Blake told Yang, her eyes gleaming in the settling darkness. With the shadows crisscrossing against her skin, she looked predatory and silkily beautiful, like some otherworldly creature, a feral huntress, all sharp teeth and impossibly smooth skin.

Yang grinned in response and took her time undressing Blake, letting the clothes fall off in achingly slow motions, and tying her up, cuffing her hands together.

As she finished, Yang was awed by her date’s beauty. Blake was proudly, defiantly naked – save for her panties – her skin glowing in the slivers of silvery moonlight, all five foot six of her stretched out on Yang’s sheets. Her hands were cuffed together, bound by black leather and silver chains, nestled into the sheets above her head. Her ankles her bound, knees pressed together and bent to one side, a teasing recourse to withhold her pussy from Yang for just a little bit longer. Yang hovered inches above her body, relishing every spot their heated skin met in a light, magnetic touch.

“Kiss me,” Blake breathed. Her lips were parted, ready. A lovely pink flushed her cheeks.

Yang inhaled the musky scent of Blake’s pussy, her arousal already permeating the air. She was so incredibly wet, soaking through the thin, silky fabric of her red lace panties. Yang looked at Blake, their eyes meeting hungrily in the dark: Blake, eager and impatient now she’d started this game, and Yang, calm and still, her mind swiftly sliding into the dominant role and anticipating Blake’s needs, her limits, and relishing, savoring the power she held.

“No.”

Blake looked startled.

“It hasn’t been six dates yet,” Yang pointed out.

At that, Blake cursed out loud, a long string of expletives that could blister paint from the walls.

Yang only narrowed her eyes, grinning a little. A bratty little girl; so used to guiding tops from the bottom, so accustomed to easily getting what she wanted. Well, she wasn’t going to get that from Yang. Instinctively, Yang slid one hand under Blake’s hip, the other grasping Blake’s opposite shoulder. With a deft quickness and ease that caught Blake off guard, Yang flipped Blake onto her stomach, pulling her up by her hips in one smooth, fluid motion so that she rested on her elbows and knees, her ass thrust up into the cool night air.

_Smack!_

She spanked Blake across her small, round ass.

Blake half yelped, half moaned in response. Then, with a huff of outrage, she tried to twist around, trying to find purchase on the sooth sheets despite her bondage, wiggling deliciously in the process.

_Smack!_

Yang smacked her across the ass again, just a touch harder than the first time.

“The first was for using bad language. This one is for questioning me,” Yang said coolly.

Blake stilled, then turned her head and strained to look up at Yang from her facedown position. Long strands of hair fell messily onto her face and pooled onto the bed, as wavy and glossy black as raven feathers. Her pupils were dilated, her irises swallowed up by black. A hint of a smirk still lingered on her lips. She opened her mouth.

“Fuck you,” she snarled.

With that, Yang unlashed the belt from her jeans. Metal clinked against metal as she drew the leather out. Blake stilled when Yang laid the belt firmly across her ass. Yang could hear her breathing, soft catchy gasps of anticipation.

“Is that any way to talk to me?” Yang crooned.

Yang pulled Blake’s panties down roughly over her thighs, stopping to finger the sodden material. She wound the buckle end of the belt twice around her grip, and started out slow and steady, soft little love-taps against Blake’s cheeks, pausing now and then to draw out the anticipation, the fear.

“Is that any ways to talk to me? Hmm?” Yang repeated, swatting Blake’s ass with one hand. She watched her ass cheeks jiggle and sway every time she did. “Answer me.”

When Blake gave no response, Yang increased the force of her whipping, bringing the belt down across Blake’s ass harder and faster.

“Are you going to answer me, brat?”

Blake only grunted in response, her ass twitching, but otherwise staying resolutely silent and still. She was a proud little thing, the most dedicatedly stubborn brat. Considering her brassy fierceness, what else could she be? Blake’s cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment and arousal in equal parts, her wet panties still bunched at the crook of her knees. Yang almost laughed out loud at the picture but kept a stern expression on her face.

Yang began to smack her in earnest, drawing her arm back and putting substantial strength into it. The belt whistled through the air and whipped Blake’s ass in cracking snaps that echoed through the room. Blake started to make high-pitched little noises, breathy gasps melting into moans. Her ass started to glow, bright red welts rising against her skin. Yang could see the flesh even in the darkness.

Blake pressed her face down as the belt came down again, her cries muffled by the mattress. Her body started to jerk, no longer able to keep still.

“Stubborn brats are bad girls,” Yang hissed. “I get to do whatever I want with a bad girl.”

Yang leaned over Blake’s body, pressing down with enough force so Blake could feel her weight. She jerked Blake up a little and dipped a finger between her legs. Her pussy was so swollen and slick and wet that Yang had to bite off a grown, clenching her teeth. Blake bucked her hips and tried to back onto Yang’s fingers, searching for friction.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Yang turned her head and bit Blake’s ear – the feline one – roughly, tonguing it a little. Blake cried out in response.

Yang got up, drew her arm back, and whipped Blake one last time with every ounce of strength she had. With that, Blake drew a deep shudder, her whole body collapsing onto the bed. She started to writhe, trying to relieve the burn that was surely spreading over her ask. She cried out, “No, Yang. Yang, please. Yang…”

Yang dropped the belt that rolled Blake gently onto her back. She was no longer smirking instead, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, her lips puckered in a pout – the picture of a repentant little girl. A floor of affection and pride filled Yang.

“What do you say?” Yang asked softly, smoothing back Blake’s rumpled hair.

“I’m sorry, Yang. I’m sorry,” she sniffled.

Yang got her a glass of water, and let her drink from a straw.

“There’s my girl,” Yang murmured. “You okay? You did so well. Good girl.”

“Yes, Yang. Yang, please…” Blake wiggled against her binds.

Yang unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off along with her shorts. She reached under her bed and withdrew her harness, bucking it in and ran her hand over its length, but left her t-shirt on. She released Blake from her restraints and let her massage her wrists.

“Get back on your knees.”

When Blake got on her hands and knees, Yang lubed up and positioned herself against Blake’s entrance. Her pussy gleamed wetly, bare folds parting as she perked her ass up. Yang eased slowly inside. Blake moaned deep in her throat as she rocked back, trying to take more of Yang inside her.

Yang rotated her hips, sliding around experimentally. Blake gasped, arching her back. She found that Blake liked it hard and fast, with short, rough stokes, and gave it as good as she was given, bouncing back against Yang wildly.

“See what you get when you’re a good girl? You get what you want when you’re a good girl.” Yang pumped harder, her hips slapping against Blake’s ass, their bodies smacking together.

“Yes, Yang. Please, Yang! More!” Her hands clenched and unclenched on the blanket. Blake spread her legs wider and lifted up her ass, rocking back and forth faster and faster.

Blake was so wet, and Yang could hear slippers, squelching noises every time she slid into her. Yang ran her hands over Blake’s body, cupping her breasts, rubbing over her hard nipples. She slipped two fingers inside Blake’s mouth, and Blake sucked eagerly and fiercely, nipping them with her sharp, little teeth.

Yang groaned, her own clit throbbing in response. She felt herself getting even wetter, if that was possible. Every inch of her skin felt hot and sensitive.

Yang retrieved her wet fingers and reached around Blake’s hip to rub at her clit, still pounding into her from behind. Blake cried out louder, her whole body thrashing against the bed. Yang could tell she was close by the way her pussy clenched and trembled.

Blake turned her head to the side as far as she could and whined, “May I come, Yang? May I?”

Yang groaned when Blake asked. “Good girl,” she pushed inside Blake harder and rubbed her clit faster. “Yes, you may come. Come for me, Blake. Come for me.”

With that, Blake stiffened, her body suspending for seven, eight soundless seconds, before finally starting to shake, her back arching with gasping, shuddering moans. She came in a hot gush of wetness, squeezing so hard against Yang that she was pushed out a little. Yang pumped slowly once, twice, before easing out gently with Blake’s shudders abated.

Yang let Blake go. She collapsed bonelessly onto the bed, ass still in the air. The marks were a faded pink, but still visible, making Yang grin. Then, after recovering enough strength, Blake rolled onto her back and opened her sex-glazed eyes.

Breathing deeply, still quivering slightly, tear-stained, she stretched like a satisfied cat, wrists flexing. Her red lipstick was smeared and half-gone, her hair mussed, like a beautiful, fucked-out vixen.

Yang joined Blake on the bed. Faces close, foreheads touching, their breath mingled. Yang took Blake’s face and, finally, kissed her red mouth. Blake’s lips opened in invitation, yielding to Yang, letting herself be claimed the just the way Yang loved to claim. Blake’s mouth was warm, her small, wet tongue twining with Yang’s for a quick moment before they broke free.

Yang eased back, letting Blake nip at her bottom lip. She pulled Blake close, setting Blake’s head on her shoulder, hair spilling everywhere. She breathed in the scent of Blake’s shampoo, the smell of sex and sweat that still lingered in the air. It was quiet for a moment as their caught their breaths. Yang was still wet and throbbing deliciously.

“What’re we going to do for our sixth date?” Yang asked, making Blake purr a soft laugh, the sound both joyful and wicked.

“Oh, I can think of a few things.” And with that, Blake pounced on Yang and dragged her down.

0 – 0 – 0

**The End…?**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading. 
> 
> ***Will work for glomps***


End file.
